Complications
by clafount
Summary: Morrigan must balance her fear that Alistair's actions after the Landsmeet will cost her everything with her concern for the well being of her friend, Elissa. One shot.


Morrigan was livid.

Everything was in danger of falling apart around her ears because of that stupid bastard prince.

_Nay—king,_ she thought with a shudder.

She sat alone, in her tent, mixing herbs for the potent fertility potion she'd been drinking every night since they'd spotted the archdemon in the Deep Roads. The _rat tat tat_ of the rain pattering on her tent only served to irritate her further.

She added a pinch of elfroot to her mortar and picked up her pestle. Furiously grinding the herbs together, she ruminated on her situation, oblivious to the awful sound the pestle made as it scraped against the stone bowl.

_What was that fool templar thinking? _

She narrowed her eyes, thinking back to the moment when Alistair strode into the room at the Arl's with a look of quiet dread upon his face. He'd pulled Elissa aside to one corner and they had spoken briefly. None of them could hear what was said, but the intent was clear. Morrigan had expected Elissa to strike him down dead where he stood, but she'd just nodded sadly and looked stoic.

_Would Elissa really bear such an insult without reprisal? _

From what Morrigan understood, the Couslands were the second most important family in the entire kingdom. Not that she cared about such things, of course, but for those who did, it seemed a foregone conclusion that she was an utterly perfect match for the new king. So why in the world would Alistair end things?

'_Tis not as if he'll likely find another woman who will put up with his incessant whining and foul smell. _

Morrigan had never quite understood why a proud and strong woman like Elissa had fallen for a stupid oaf like Alistair in the first place. She had warned the noblewoman not to get too attached, but in the back of her mind she had actually always counted on using that attachment for her own purposes. Of the two of them, she'd never expected _Alistair_ to be the one to come to his senses.

She set the bowl down in front of her and rubbed her temples. Even though it cost her something to admit it, her anger wasn't completely selfish. She was angry on Elissa's behalf, too. She wanted to make good on the Templar's worst nightmare and turn him into a toad right then and there, just for the sake of her friend's honor.

That, of course, was the problem. She needed him to be distinctly untoad-like—and alive—in the near future. And while her wishing death or transmogrification on the ex-Templar wasn't out of the ordinary, _Elissa_ wishing death on him (however justified) was worrisome.

_What if she no longer cares if he lives or dies? Or worse…what if she no longer cares if _she_ lives or dies?_

Morrigan picked up the bowl again and reached for a delicate bottle filled with an amber liquid. She carefully started tapping the herb mixture into it. The task required her to focus on keeping her hands steady—such focus helped calm her down.

'_Tis possible that he is not your only option, _she thought. _The Orlesian wardens might yet arrive while you can still make use them. _

She finished adding the mix of herbs to the bottle and started swirling it around slowly. A small smile flitted across her face.

_And then if your Warden friend would like you to turn him into a frog, you'll be free to oblige her…_

Just then she heard a noise outside her tent. She had but a moment to quickly hide the bottle under a blanket before the flap was pulled aside, and Elissa poked her head in.

"Morrigan."

Elissa stopped, hunched over, half inside the tent and half out.

"Hello, brat," Morrigan answered softly.

She'd called Elissa a "noble brat" from almost their first day together. She'd meant it as an insult, but Elissa—in that way that she had—managed to reclaim it and make the nickname endearing instead. Now Morrigan used it with some affection.

She examined the warden's face. Elissa looked more lost and dazed than the witch had ever seen her, but she didn't look as if she'd been crying—a fact that filled the witch with an odd sense of pride.

"If your intention is to drown me with rain water in my own tent, please, continue to stand there with the flap open all night."

"Oh, sorry," the warden replied.

"Come inside with you then."

Elissa entered the tent and closed the flap behind her. The light from Morrigan's lantern cast strange shadows on her face, making the dark circles under her eyes even more pronounced.

They sat there wordlessly. Morrigan wasn't cursed with Alistair's need to constantly fill silences with meaningless chatter. She figured the warden would speak when she was ready.

After awhile Elissa asked, "Do you have any of that tea you made for me before?"

She was referring to a Seheron variety Morrigan often drank at night to help with sleep.

"Not unless you like it cold." Morrigan made a wide gesture. "This weather makes a fire impossible."

"Oh right."

"However," Morrigan said, shifting to look in one of her packs. "I might have something better." After looking for a few more moments, her hands found what they sought: a flask of potent dwarven "ale."

Elissa's eyes went wide. "I didn't think you approved of spirits, Morrigan."

"'Tis true I usually find its effects deplorable. But I do keep some on hand as a suitable substitute for passionflower in my potions. And I think tonight that perhaps…you might need something a bit stronger than tea," she said, unscrewing the lid and handing the flask to Elissa.

"I suppose I do," Elissa replied, before sniffing the flask and then taking a tentatively sip. Once the foul smelling liquid passed her lips, she sputtered and coughed for a few long moments.

Morrigan crossed her arms and watched her. After she recovered Elissa took another, longer pull. This time she only grimaced.

"So," Morrigan said. "I suppose you want me to kill him for you."

Elissa coughed again. "Um, what?"

"Your fool templar boy," Morrigan scowled. "I suppose you've come here to discuss how we're going to dispose of him, then?"

Elissa barked a grim laugh. "No, Morrigan. I don't want him dead. I didn't go through all that trouble to put Maric's heir on the throne only to murder him in his sleep for dumping me afterward. That's not why I'm here."

Morrigan shifted uneasily. "So then…you're here for…"

Elissa noticed her discomfort and gave another rueful laugh. "Don't worry Morrigan. I'm not about to start sobbing on your shoulder either. If I wanted kind words and empty platitudes I'd talk to Leliana…or _Wynne_." She said the last word with a level of disdain Morrigan had never heard her use about Wynne before.

'_Tis most curious, _the witch thought.

She didn't know why the warden was angry with the Circle mage, but for some reason it pleased her. She felt a certain amount of petty jealousy when it came to the other women in the camp and their friendship with Elissa. It was silly, and she tried not to think about it too much, but in truth, she felt like Elissa was _her_ friend and didn't like sharing.

"You know," Elissa said, rolling the flask between her hands. "You were right."

"You'll have to be more specific," Morrigan answered with a small smile. "I'm right about a lot of things."

Elissa snorted. "You know what I mean," she looked up with a frown. "About the fact that love makes you _weak_. That's true, isn't it? I guess this is your chance to say 'I told you so.'"

Morrigan's face softened. "'twould give me no pleasure to say so," she said with sudden sincerity.

Elissa took another swig of the flask. This time she barely winced.

"Wanna know why he did it?"

Strangely, Morrigan found that she _did_ rather want to know. However, she just shrugged noncommittally.

"He actually had a pretty good reason. It turns out that because of the taint, two wardens can't make a baby very easily. I wouldn't be able to give him an heir."

Morrigan stared at the Warden with her mouth wide. Snapping it shut before Elissa looked up, she turned her head to hide her shocked expression.

_Give him an heir…'tis ironic, is it not?_

Morrigan glanced at Flemeth's grimoire in the corner. It had _at least_ a dozen magical remedies for infertility. If Flemeth could manage to bear children, being a thousand years old and an abomination to boot, surely something as trivial as the taint could be overcome through her magic as well.

_Alistair is a _fool, she thought again.

"You were right," Elissa said, and then added bitterly, "and Wynne was right, too."

"Oh? I didn't think that old bat was ever right. About anything."

"She…she said that my love for him was selfish," Elissa continued, staring blankly ahead. "And she was right." Her brows knitted together and she stared at her feet.

Morrigan frowned, not liking the thought that her and Wynne might agree on any topic—or that she might be as meddlesome as the old lady.

"His bloodline doesn't mean anything to him," Elissa continued, not noticing Morrigan's expression. "Not really. But he knew that his duty as king was more important than anything else. And here I am…quite likely the very last Cousland—which means _everything_ to me—and I was ready to throw all that away just to be with him."

She paused then, still playing with the flask in her hands. Morrigan watched her, apprehensively.

"I made a promise you know," Elissa finally said softly, without looking up. "I made a promise to my mother."

Again Morrigan said nothing, only watching.

"I promised her that I would live," Elissa said, looking up to meet Morrigan's eyes. "I don't suppose it would honor her much if I lived only to let the Cousland name die out in a single generation."

Morrigan finally let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. _Good_, she thought, suddenly feeling more sure of her purpose than ever before.

"Well, brat, let me tell you what you are going to do now," she said firmly.

Elissa looked up in surprise.

"Find a man…'tis not important who…_lie with him_," she leaned forward and stared intently at Elissa. "And then once you have had your pleasure, _crush his heart_ with your bare hands!"

A giggle escaped from Elissa, and she immediately clasped a hand over her mouth. "So…do you mean that figuratively or literally?"

Morrigan shrugged."That is entirely up to you," she said with a wicked smile.

Elissa laughed again, louder this time, and a sense of warm relief washed over Morrigan at the sound. She found herself hoping, in spite of the rain, that the templar heard her laughing and that it bothered him.

"Oh, Morrigan. Sometimes you are so delightfully evil," Elissa said with a smile, as she took one last, long pull on the flask before handing it back to the witch. She turned to go, but stopped herself and gave Morrigan a serious look.

"Thank you Morrigan," she said warmly. "For…everything."

Morrigan blinked back sudden tears at Elissa's heartfelt sincerity. "You are most welcome, brat," she said softly as Elissa left her tent.

She stared at the tent flap for a few long moments after the warden left, thinking about a promise she had made to her own mother, what seemed like ages ago.

Finally she felt under the blanket for her potion. It was still there, undisturbed.

_I will do as I have promised, Mother, _she thought as she drank down the bitter mixture. _And in so doing, I will help my friend keep her promise as well._

That night she slept soundly without dreaming, for the first night in months.


End file.
